


The Way to a Man's Heart (Is Through His Stomach)

by agoodpersonrose



Series: Schitt Gifts [4]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5+1 Things, Cooking, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, David Rose is a Good Person, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Patrick Brewer Can't Cook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodpersonrose/pseuds/agoodpersonrose
Summary: 5 times David ate Patrick's food, and 1 time heseverelyregretted it.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Ray Butani, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Series: Schitt Gifts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861039
Comments: 31
Kudos: 122





	The Way to a Man's Heart (Is Through His Stomach)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishyspots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/gifts).



**1.**

“Oh, that is soft,” David mutters as he pokes the cookie. His finger makes a small dent in the cookie and he can’t resist breaking off the bottom corner and putting it in his mouth.

The expected joy he thought he would get from the cookie quickly turns sour. What should have been a soft, sweet bite of cookie turns out to be a gammy, chewy clump. It takes him a full five minutes to get through that one small mouthful and he ends up staring at the gift with even more distaste than before.

"What gross ass bakery did he get this from?" he asks himself. 

“Ugh. Shouldn’t you be at the store by now, David?” Alexis asks when she re-appears in the doorway between their parents’ room. David swears and turns to grab his keys and phone, hesitating by the door and finally deciding to grab the cookie too, if only to force Patrick to try it out and prove to him the quality.

Just as he is putting the big white box into the passenger seat, his phone dings with a notification. He tugs it out of his front pocket with difficulty, expecting it to be his boyfriend lecturing him about opening times, and consistent store hours. Instead, it’s from Ray, and David frowns as he hesitates by the driver’s door to open it.

_09:46 Just thought you should have this!_

Attached is a photo of the inside of Ray’s kitchen. In it, Patrick is stood, cheek smudged with some sort of white flour or sugar, beaming at the cookie David had just stashed in the car. His hands are holding some sort of piping bag and his tongue is sticking just slightly out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on writing the icing words on the top of the heart.

_09:47 Attempt number four, I believe!_

David huffs a laugh and looks at the photo again. To his surprise, Ray isn’t exaggerating as in the background of the photo he spots several laid-out cooling racks, each with a misshapen or blackened cookie resting on them.

When David gets into the car, he looks at the cookie box in a new light, reaching over to pull out another bite, he chews thoughtfully at the dough which has somehow gone into a concrete like texture during its short sojourn in the car.

“Okay, I can make this work,” he mumbles to himself even as his teeth get stuck together with cookie dough. He puts the car into reverse and backs out of his spot, heading towards the store.

**2.**

“Now, David, I should warn you,” Ray mutters as the two of them sit down at the table in Ray’s living room. David looks up with a frown as the man’s voice drops to a low volume, inaudible to Patrick who continues to whistle happily from the other room. “Patrick has been working really hard on the food for tonight, and I believe it’s his mother’s recipe, but that doesn’t mean that it will be--”

“Edible?” David asks, earning a relieved nod from Ray. “Yeah, I kind of worked that out from the cookie incident.”

Ray’s face goes pale at that statement, and David suddenly feels bad. He had only had to eat one of the cookie’s, but Ray had to deal with all of the cut offs and the mistakes. He pats the man’s arm apologetically.

“It’s fine, I’ll be good.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Patrick asks cheerfully as he enters the room laden with a large pot.

“You,” David teases, smiling in return.

“Only good things, I hope?”

“The best,” David replies, leaning back so that Patrick can put the dish on the heat mats in the centre of the table. “Ooh, what is this?”

Patrick frowns bemusedly, “It’s lasagna, David. It’s actually my Mom’s old recipe, so, don’t expect it to be quite that good, but it should be pretty solid.”

“Ah,” Ray and David make affirming sounds at the same time as they both stare at the dark brown dish in front of them, grease collecting in a little puddle in the centre where the whole thing seems to dip.

“Do you want to pass me your plates?”

Patrick serves them both up a large slice of the pasta dish, and David looks down in horror as oil and grease pools out of it and onto the plate below. The cheese on the top is burnt and crispy, while the pasta sheets themselves are hard and chewy. David winces as he swallows a particularly tough chunk and feels it scraping all the way down his throat.

“You okay?” Patrick asks, the third time he reaches for his water during the meal.

“Mm, fine, this is delicious. You’ll have to tell your Mom how great it turned out!”

“Ah, I don’t think it’s as good as hers,” Patrick says good-naturedly waving the comment away.

“No,” David drags the word out, unsure of what else to say. “It’s very-- flavourful.”

“Mhm, it’s got a lot of seasoning on it,” Ray adds with a cheery smile.

Patrick looks bashful for a moment before looking back down at his own plate. Across the table, Ray gives David a wide eyed look which is returned quickly, before both of them turn their expressions back to neutral as Patrick looks back up.

**3.**

“Who made the potato salad? It’s awful!”

“Shh!” David reaches out to clasp a hand over Stevie’s mouth and effectively shut her trap. “Don’t say that!”

“What? It’s not like they won’t already know how bad it is, David, it’s somehow sour and sweet at the same time, both things that potato salad isn’t supposed to be.”

David glares daggers at his best friend and drags her over to the corner of Patrick’s new apartment. For some unknown reason he had decided that the housewarming party simply wasn’t enough and had also chosen to host a potluck evening with an open invitation to the entire town.

This is how, instead of snuggling down with his boyfriend in his brand new, _private,_ apartment, David has ended up spending the last few hours mixing with the older generation of Schitt’s Creek while effectively being trapped against his will.

Stevie is still looking at him as if he’s gone crazy, so David sighs and rolls his eyes. “Patrick made it,” he mutters quietly.

“Patrick?” Stevie splutters, “you mean Patrick who has a first aid kit and a toolbox despite being several years younger than us, Patrick? Patrick who knows how to do taxes and makes spreadsheets for a living? That Patrick?”

David scowls and slumps his shoulders. “What other Patrick do you know of?”

“David, you can’t be serious, it’s _inedible.”_

“You think I don’t know that?”

“No, but David, it’s genuinely awful. It’s not just bad, it’s--”

“Hey, you guys, are you having fun?” Patrick asks, popping out of nowhere at David’s left side and putting a steady hand on his boyfriend’s lower back.

“Mhm,” Stevie says with an unconvincing smile.

“I see you’ve tried some of the potato salad. I added some new ingredients; a sweeter cream and different herbs with it which I was nervous about, but people seem to like it!”

Stevie nods again and looks down at her paper plate with barely disguised disgust. “Um, yeah, definitely.”

“I think it’s great, honey,” David chimes in.

“Well, then that’s all that matters,” Patrick says with a soft, teasing look.

Stevie elbows David in the side desperately and he reaches over with his own plastic fork and steals the rest of it off of her plate.

“Hey,” she says, her voice tense and forced as she tries to act annoyed. David’s face stays neutral as he forces himself not to gag on the tough, rock-like piece of potato in his mouth.

“David,” Patrick chides him, “You don’t need to steal Stevie’s, there’s plenty more over on the table--”

“Who the fuck made the potato salad?” Ronnie suddenly calls out, looking disgustedly round at the room.

“Hey, honey, actually, I was thinking we could step outside, it’s getting a bit crowded in here,” David chokes out as he finally swallows the lump he had been working on.

“Sure, David. Whatever you need,” Patrick replies, and lets himself be led out of the room, missing the looks of shock and amusement spreading through the guests as the word gets around.

**4.**

“... and don’t eat them,” Patrick warns as he heads to get the door.

“No promises,” David replies, standing up and heading to the hob. He looks down at the small blobs of undercooked batter than Patrick had already plated up and winces, glancing behind him to check he’s not being watched, and quickly flipping them all back into the frying pan.

They start to brown pretty quickly, and David huffs a sigh of relief as they begin to look closer to edible than they had before. He flips them back onto the plate and begins stirring out more batter into little circles.

When he turns around, Jake is setting down the table in the centre of the room, and David leaves his post to go and step into the conversation.

The incident goes down like a house on fire, but they manage to get out of it alive. The door finally clicks closed as Jake leaves, and David turns back to Patrick with a cautious expression, but his boyfriend doesn’t seem as phased as last time and happily turns back to his frying pan.

“Oh, David, these are all messy,” he says, tutting and pushing the small pancakes around with his spatula.

David opens his mouth to argue but just finds himself blinking in surprise as Patrick effectively ruins his three perfectly round pancakes by moving them before they’re ready.

“It’s okay, you’ll get better at it,” Patrick says consolingly, reaching out to squeeze David’s arm softly. David just sighs and leans closer to his boyfriend, reaching down to press a kiss to his forehead and slot himself into his side.

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, settling in to watch the massacre taking place in the frying pan in front of them.

**5.**

“Aww, this is great, David, thank you!”

David grins from his perch on the couch, right next to the Christmas tree in their brand new cottage, as Patrick stands and holds up the black apron to his chest, the words, _Kiss the Cook_ emblazoned on the front of it in a white script.

“And it matches your aesthetic!”

“Well, obviously. I couldn’t get you something tacky now, could I?” David says with a grin, accepting the kiss Patrick leans down to give him.

“I love it,” he says, kissing David again, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

David catches Marcy looking at him with ill-disguised horror on her face, but he just shakes his head casually as Patrick rushes over to the tree to grab another present. This one is an envelope for David, which he accepts with a little excited wiggle.

“For me? Thank you.”

“Um, that one’s from me,” Patrick says, sitting back down and craning his head to watch David open it.

He tears the envelope open and out falls a small bundle of flashcards, tied up with a little black ribbon in one corner. Each of them is covered in Patrick's neat black handwriting, and David looks over at him with a small smile as he looks at the effort that went into each one.

“What are these,” David murmurs to himself as he starts to flick through them. Each of them has a little token on it for him to tear out, promising various little gifts. “A foot rub, a massage, a-- oop, not saying that one out loud,” he looks at the Brewer parents sat on the other couch apologetically who just laugh and shake their heads as they take sips from their wine glasses.

“Look at this one, these are my favourites,” Patrick says, leaning over David’s shoulder and flipping towards the back.

“A week’s worth of home cooked meals,” David reads out, forcing a smile and leaning over to kiss Patrick quickly, thankful to have him close his eyes for a moment so he can get his expression under control. “Honey, I love it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Patrick demurs, curling his legs up to get more comfortable next to his husband.

Suddenly, their domestic Christmas scene is broken up by the alarm in the kitchen beeping incessantly. Patrick jumps up and scrambles towards the door, mumbling something about chicken under his breath, leaving David a moment to let his reactions out.

He looks pleadingly to Marcy and Clint who just smirk at him unreservedly.

“What?” he asks, bashfully dipping his head at the looks his parents-in-law are giving him.

“You’re going to regret not having told him sooner, David,” Clint says with a laugh. “You’ll be getting gifts like that for the rest of your life.”

The three of them look up as Patrick bounces back into the room, beaming brightly at them in excitement. “Dinner’s ready,” he says, letting out a little happy huff of air. They all slowly get up and head towards the door as Patrick disappears back into the kitchen.

“Nah, I won’t regret that,” he murmurs, earning a fond clap on the back from Clint and a proud, teary eyed look from Marcy as they head towards the dining room. They pull up short in the doorway at the sight of the gristly grey chicken on a dish in the centre.

“Oh lord,” Marcy mutters, absent-mindedly reaching for her necklace as they all collectively take a gulp of air together.

**+1.**

“Are you feeling any better?” Patrick asks when David returns from his third trip to the bathroom since they had settled into bed less than an hour ago. 

David makes a disgruntled moan and curls back up on his side under the covers, facing away from his husband grumpily. His shoulders relax a little as Patrick reaches over from where he is perched reading his book to card a firm hand through his hair. David sighs, but the moment is broken as his stomach makes another grotesque gurgling noise.

Patrick coo’s sympathetically and nudges closer, tugging at David’s shoulder to get him to turn towards him and rest his head in Patrick’s lap.

He continues to pet David’s hair as they sit together in silence, the only sound emanating being the ones from David’s stomach, and the odd miserable moan.

“Why did you eat it, David?” Patrick asks softly.

“Oh, you know me, I’ll eat anything,” David says, self-deprecating even as he clutches at his abdomen in pain.

“You won’t though, David, and we both know that.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“It wasn’t the worst thing in the world,” David mutters after a while.

“You mean it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve cooked for you?” Patrick asks, and David shifts a little more to give him the angle to look up at his husband. “It’s okay, David, you can tell me.”

“You’ve been getting better,” David insists, but the growl of his stomach quickly undermines that statement.

“Why did you not just tell me you didn’t like my cooking?”

“It’s not that I don’t like your cooking--”

“It’s that my cooking isn’t good?”

“No,” David tries to argue, but he ends up curling into himself in pain, digging his forehead further into Patrick’s thighs in an attempt to stop himself from crying out.

Patrick just holds him closer, reaching over to grab the cool flannel from the side table that had been abandoned on David’s second rush to the toilet, and presses it to his husband’s forehead.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says gently. “Look, I was thinking, and maybe we could take some cooking classes, together? That way we would both know what to look for and maybe I won’t end up giving you food poisoning from my infamous meatloaf.”

David says nothing but nods energetically, his head going back and forth in Patrick’s lap and hitting his lower stomach in the process.

“Good,” Patrick murmurs, leaning down to kiss David’s temple.

Just as he does so he immediately has to jump back as David leaps back out of the bed and rushes towards the bathroom. Patrick winces guiltily at the noises that follow, and pushes the duvet out of the way, clambering out of the bed to go and help his husband.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you fishyspots for the little burst of inspiration, I hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments! 🍽


End file.
